NATHANIEL, YOUR MOTHER IS VERY UPSET. TURN THE BOAT AROUND, SON. And so on. "Shit." Nate could imagine his mother crying in her black evening attire in their box at the Metropolitan Opera while his father stabbed furiously at his cell phone. Then again, his mother always cried at the opera; it was part of her whole dramatic-French-princess act. The messages had all been sent within the last two hours, so it wasn't like his parents had been freaking out for that long. Normally his father's surly tone would have scared the crap out of him, but he'd been looking for a reason to abort the mission and get back to Blair. Now here it was. He went back to the navigation screen and punched in the longitudinal and latitudinal points for the harbor at Battery Park City, which were written on the blackboard on the wall of the cabin in yellow chalk. He hit enter and immediately the boat's motor shift into neutral. Then the bow dipped and swung around until the boat had done a complete hundred-and-eighty-degree turn back in the direction of New York Harbor. He typed the command to increase speed to thirty-three miles per hour and glanced at the clock 8:29PM. He'd be back in bed with Blair by midnight. "Yo, what up dude?" Anthony demanded from his spot on the cabin floor. "Are you doing homework or something?" Nate grinned and shook his head, enjoying the buzz from their second hand smoke. Blair would be so thrilled to see him again she'd have to forgive him. And he wouldn't have any trouble making her forget. Presuming she was there waiting for him. And presuming she was alone... TWISTED LITTLE SISTER "Remove your shoes! Remove your shoes! Ree-moove your shoooo-ooes!" Damian screetched into the mike. It was the final chorus of "Japanese Restaurant," the latest hit single written by Dan Humphrey and the last song on the Raves' playlist. "If we slip out now," Elise murmured, "we can probably get a cab before anyone else." Who said anything about leaving? Jenny lit another cigarette, ignoring her. She wanted to hang out until the crowd thinned, and get a better look at Damian. See if his red-blond hair stood up on end all on its own or if it was crusty with hair gel. See if his teeth were really as perfectly white and straight as they looked from where she sat. Hear that Irish twang he was so famous for. And those arm muscles! The Raves' drummer was still cute, but she had to admit Damian was totally hot. He had this incredible energy about him, like he'd been wound up. If she stuck around, maybe Dan would even introduce them, and she could casually slip in that she was friends with Serena, and find out if they were actually together or not. That is, if Dan was still alive. Zoing! Damian struck the last chord on his guitar and threw his instrument into the crowd, as he was known to do. Then he climbed up the fireman's pole hand-over-hand, flexing those fantastic arm muscles, and disappeared. "Show-off," the drummer scoffed. He stood up stiffly, grabbed a bottle of beer from beneath his drum set, and chugged it. Then set the bottle down and craned his neck, like he was looking for someone in the crowd. Jenny's skin tingled. Her? Wait, wasn't she over him already? "We should get going," Elise repeated. She stood up and tugged on her shirt. "Everyone's going to be fighting for cabs." The bassist started unplugging things and breaking down the equipment. The drummer irreverently into one of the mikes. The drummer burped irreverently into one of the mikes. Gross. Jenny giggles like this was the handsomest, most adorable thing she'd ever heard. "You can go if you want, but I'm not leaving," she told her friend. She was supposed to spend the rest of the weekend at Elise's house, but opportunities like this didn't present themselves very often. Opportunities to meet famous rock stars, or opportunities to be as naughty as possible? The crowd began to disperse. Some headed to the bathroom' others spilled out the exit doors and onto the street. Elise hovered next to the table, unsure. Jenny took another awkward puff on her cigarette and jiggled her foot. And then all of a sudden he was there, in front of them- the drummer. He wasn't Damian, but he was almost as good. "Hey. I'm Lloyd." His knuckles were wrapped in frayed surgical tape like a boxer's, his dark, neatly cut hair and preppy pink-and-green Lacoste shirt were soaked with perspiration. "You're Dan's sister, Jennifer, right?" Jenny nodded. She loved it when people called her Jennifer. Although she would have preferred if he'd said, "You're Jennifer, that stunning model in the W spread this month, right?" "How'd you know?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. Despite the fact that she dressed better than Dan did and was nearly nine inches shorter and mad a much nigger chest, they could almost have been fraternal twins. Except that she was three years younger than Dan. Not that she was about to tell Mr. Drummer Boy th............